


take my hand, darling

by deary_you



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Adoption, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, hints of anxiety, phil knowing how to comfort dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deary_you/pseuds/deary_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hey, mister lester, let me try to make things better for you, says phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand, darling

Dan walks steadily past the receptionist. He knows she’s gesticulating and saying something but all he can hear is the buzzing in his head. The automatic doors open and he is greeted by a cold blast of wind and rain.  _ Ah, _ he realises.  _ This was probably what she was trying to warn me about. _ He rocks back and forth on his heels on a few seconds, deciding. He steps out and pulls his black coat tighter around him. The doors whir shut behind him. He sees several people running for cover and thankfully no one is running towards the sheltered entrance of this building. 

 

He sighs. He looks up forlornly at the grey stormy sky. He takes a step to the left and leans on the glass wall. He is tempted to turn around and press his forehead onto the cool surface. But, he’ll see the receptionist and it’s already awkward enough that he chose to ignore her just now. Also, he doesn't want to see the look of sympathy from her.

 

He tries to let the pitter patter of rain wash over him, to ease the thrumming of anxiety under his skin, to dislodge the lump in his throat that he had for the last hour. He doesn’t want to cry. He just wants to lie down on his bed, preferably with Phil spooning him and letting him talk over the noise in his head. 

 

He runs his fingers through his messy curly hair, for the upmteenth time of the day. Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't have even bothered in straightening it earlier. His hair, of its own will, had curled up during the interview, anyways. It was the only time in years that he’d decided to straighten his hair and it had refused to stay down.

 

Dan lets out a shuddering breath. He feels like he thoroughly, royally fucked things up. There’s no way that they’ll accept them now. He knows that he's well prepared; nothing should have gone wrong. He has stayed up night after night, reading brochure after brochure and educating himself about everything he needs to know. But, apparently, when faced with a stern-faced man armed with a notebook and pen, he reverts to his 10-year-old self. For goodness sake, he’s 32 now. He should be over being nervous. He has done so many red carpet interviews, performed on stage in front of thousands of people and hosted several documentaries. Yet, he still clams up and stutters out fragmented sentences. He doesn’t know why he couldn’t answer that man’s questions properly. Were they too difficult and mind-boggling? He doesn’t know. Phil tried to take matters into his hands, steering the interview into a more comfortable and easier one. But, even Phil was speechless at one point, dumbfounded by some of the questions.

 

Heck, he wasn't this anxious when he met the Lesters to ask them for Phil’s hand in marriage. Nor when proposing to Phil. Nor on their wedding day itself. (No, this is a lie. He paced around in the bathroom for a good 20 minutes before realising he's been waiting since he was 18 for this day. But still.)

 

He shouldn't be this anxious about adopting a child. A tiny human being.

 

He thuds his head against the wall. His mind is still scrambled. The buzzing in his head still hasn’t subsided yet. He wonders where Phil has gone. He’s spending an awful long time in the toilet.  _ Maybe he finally realised what a fucked-up person I am. Wow, bloody hell, Dan you still an emo kid after all these years. You need to stop thinking so negatively. You better not pass these thoughts to your child.  _ He frowns. _ Well, your non-existent child now since you fucked things up- _

 

“You need to stop talking to yourself out loud, Dan.”

 

Dan starts, pressing a hand to his fast beating heart. Phil has suddenly appeared beside him.

 

“Jesus fuck, Phil. How long have you been standing there?” Dan gasps out.

 

The corners of Phil’s mouth quirk up. “For a while now. Why didn’t you wait for me inside?” He points back to the reception area with his thumb.

 

Dan shrugs. “I needed some air? The weather is perfect for me anyways,” he mutters, tilting his face up towards to the sky again. He folds his arms, subconsciously hunching himself up.

 

“Hey,” Phil says softly, tugging Dan by the elbow to face him again. ”Everything will be fine, sweetheart.” 

 

This is as much as they would allow to each other; light touches and soft murmuring in public. Some habits die hard. (Also, who knows if there are paps around. Ah, the lives of semi-famous hosts of a late night show.)

 

“You did okay, darling. He was just being too hard on us. We did alright. Why do you think that I held your hand throughout the interview?” Phil continues, cocking his head to the side. He starts to rub small circles near the crook of Dan’s elbow.

 

Dan opens his mouth to retort but he doesn’t have anything to say. He knows that Phil knows - Phil always knows what to say and do. He tries to smile back to Phil but it's futile. His face feels rigid, frozen in the panicked and wide-eyed look of  _ oh-god-I-fucked-up-something. _

 

Phil takes a step closer and Dan is enveloped by warmth and the familiar smell of home. He's aching to drape himself all over Phil but he feels so vulnerable in the open. Phil taps a rhythm of a slow  _ one two three  _ pause _ one two three  _ on his elbow repeatedly. This has always been their code of saying  _ hello dear I'm here for you, let me try make things okay for you.  _

 

Dan feels something unfurling in his chest. He’s so ever grateful for their wordless conversation. Some things are better said with touches and looks. He feels better. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

 

Dan covers Phil’s hand, stilling the tapping. He tries to smile again. He watches Phil’s expression change from worry to happiness. The crinkles by his eyes appear and he sticks out his tongue to the side cheekily.

 

It's okay. They'll work things through. They always do. It might take a while but they always figure things out. It’s okay as long as Phil is there.

 

“I called for a cab just now while I was in the toilet. But I said the wrong street so we got to walk a bit. It should be the street ahead.” Phil points towards to the left.

 

Dan nods as Phil rummages through his satchel for an umbrella. He nudges Phil’s foot, noticing that his shoelaces have come undone. Phil rolls his eyes at himself and bends down to tie up his shoelaces. Dan takes the umbrella from Phil, walking up to the edge of the shelter and opening up the umbrella. He twirls the umbrella and takes a step down from the elevated platform. He turns to look behind. He watches Phil tie up his shoelaces, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. Phil grins at Dan and walks up to him. 

 

Phil ducks under the umbrella and his eyes crinkles with delight. Phil hasn't stepped off the ledge; he’s slightly taller than Dan. Dan looks up into those blue, blue eyes. He feels like 18 again. He tucks the fallen lock of hair back into the quiff.

 

(He's constantly amazed at how Phil makes him feel young again. He doesn’t want to know how he does it. He doesn’t want to ruin the magic of it.)

 

“Hey,” Phil says again. He pulls the umbrella down further, shielding them from the view of the rest of the world. (No pics for the paps, Dan thinks dazedly.) He bends down, slanting their mouths together for a chaste kiss.

 

Dan feels lighter. Calmer.

 

“I'll make you a hot chocolate when we get back. We’ll make a blanket fort and talk yeah? I’ll massage you too. Your feet too, if you want,” Phil whispers, promising against the corner of his mouth.

 

“Like the good old days? You’re too nice to me,” Dan replies. He thinks about that night, so many years ago, after the tour announcement.

 

“Anything for you, Daniel. And yeah, like that night. Except, Timothy will barge in and probably fart in our faces. Again.”

 

Dan giggles. “Oh my god, that dog. We need to change his diet.”

 

“Come on, Mister Lester. We’ve got quite a bit to walk.” Phil draws back and steps off the ledge with a hop. He nudges slightly Dan to start walking.

 

“Lead the way, Mister Howell,” Dan says, brushing the back of his hand against Phil’s.

 

//

 

(Their cab ends up being 3 streets away but Dan couldn’t find it in him to be angry at Phil or the cab driver. Phil does ends up massaging Dan’s poor sore feet. Timothy does end up in their blanket fort but thankfully he didn’t fart. Bless. They end up talking about their future, like they always do. But this time, it’s not in another a few more years; it’s soon, sooner than they can expect. They end up cuddling with Timothy and they talk about their interview and what went wrong. Phil concludes that the mole on the man’s face is probably evil and brainwashed him, asking them difficult questions. Dan ends up rolling on the floor, laughing, knocking over their mugs and spilling their drinks everywhere. Timothy ends up barking excitedly at them. Phil ends up joining in the laughter.

  
_ I can’t wait for you get here and join our little family _ , Dan thinks.)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is very loosely inspired by the umbrella scene in Miraculous Ladybug. you should check it out if you just want to watch a light-hearted superhero cartoon.
> 
> thanks to [Rose](http://pbpudding.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this! (sorry for disturbing you on your holiday oops)
> 
> as always you can reach me on my [tumblr](http://www.deary-you.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/deary_you) ^^


End file.
